Strange Encounters
by Water-Soter
Summary: Scott looks up an address given to him on the streets, and soon finds himself in a place beyond anything he had ever imagined. Scott-centered! Look at Profile for info of my current projects and updates.
1. Part 1

**Title: **Strange Encounters                        

**_Date: _**_06/14/03_

**Author: **Water-Soter

**Summary:** Scott looks up an address given to him on the streets, and soon finds himself in a place beyond anything he had ever imagined.  

**Main Characters/Pairings: ** Scott, Jean, Professor X, Bobby, Warren, Hank, Logan, Ororo.

**Series: ** The Road Home Book I Part 1

**Author's Notes: **Even though this story is an AU, some facts are taken from the various X-Men verses. This story is dedicated to Nadja for her kind words and support, and to Amber for her inspiration. Thank you both. Without you this wouldn't be posted. I want to thank my beta-god Tarch for his initial work on this fic and as always, my current beta Kris for working her magic on this. You so RULE! J 

**Feedback: **Absolutely! I'm new at this, so please don't burn me at the stake. Nevertheless I will appreciate any comments or suggestions you have on this story J. Write to me at www.Water_Soter@yahoo.com ****

**Disclaimer**: These characters belong to Marvel comics and the almighty Stan Lee. It's free so please don't take the shirt of my back J. 

**Warning: **this story contains violence and some foul language. So be warned, if you're easily offended, please don't read. Otherwise J be afraid, be very afraid . . . hee! ha ha ha ha  (diabolical laugh

           Squishy  thoughts          "Yummy"  spoken         **_Whoopee_**   telepathy

It was cold outside. The young boy in the train station felt the freezing wind on his back as it sent shivers through his much too thin frame. His light brown hair fell on his face and he absently pushed it to the side. His eyes were taped safely shut, hidden behind dark sunglasses. He held a white cane in his right hand and an old duffel bag in his left as he stood on the platform and waited for the train that would take him to Westchester. 

He'd been blind – for all intents and purposes – since his mutant power manifested five years ago. Forced to leave his home, going from city to city in fear of persecution, but now, barely thirteen, he prepared to make another trip. Hopefully he was going to a place a bit safer than the dark alleys of New York City. If not, he'd stay at least until the worst of the winter had passes and he could hit the road again. It was last night when he had made his decision.  

He still felt uneasy about the whole thing, but he really needed a place to stay. These last few months had been the worst, most of the money he made had been taken by one "bully" or another. He barely had anything to eat most of the time, and his regular buildings were becoming more dangerous as a new gang emerged to creating an all out war as they tried to move in on the others territories. Even the cops seemed to be keeping a closer eye on things making hard for Scott to evade them.  

It was near seven-thirty in the evening when he arrived. At first he had hoped to find a motel and begin his search in the morning, but everything Scott could afford was full. It had started to snow and the cold had begun to numb his fingers. The sidewalk was slippery, and it  made his movements clumsy and slow. 

It took young man nearly two hours to find the address; he could barely feel his limbs. He was freezing, but could bring himself to ring the doorbell. C'mon Summers, this isn't the time to wimp out. He thought and he unconsciously felt for the paper where the address was written on. Feeling it in his hands the memories of that night came back full force.

It had been a bad situation, the worst he had been in, in a while. He had made many mistakes, one of them was playing three on one. He had been cocky, young and stupid. He had won a lot of cash in that area recently and he got careless. Beating them was no problem, but he shouldn't have smiled afterwards, should have left when he heard the angry comments from the trio. Shouldn't have asked for another game but he was foolish and when he did leave, they followed him outside.

The first punch was a surprise. He hadn't expected them to come after him. The second knocked the air out of his lungs. "Stupid freak thinks he can make fools of us."

"Little shit's gonna get what's coming to him." He heard another one say as he was hauled off the ground and slammed painfully against the wall. He tried to get loose, panic and survival instincts overriding the rational part of his mind. He was a cornered animal and reacted as such. He really didn't remember clearly what happened next except that the hands that were holding him were suddenly gone. He heard screams but that only made him more frightened. One minute, two, and then silence. 

Scott had gotten himself bundled in a small corner, waiting for whatever came next, not at all expecting a gruff voice to call out to him. 

"Ya okay kid?" A man spoke, not the any of the ones that had been beaten him, this was a new voice.

The boy merely nodded, hoping the guy didn't have a thing for little kids.

There was silence again and then he heard footsteps coming his way. He was shaking, but tried to put on a bravado. The sound stopped just short of him then the man spoke again, "That's a pretty nasty bruise ya have."

He suddenly felt a hairy hand touch his cheek and sharply flinched away. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, kid, just here to help."

He didn't know what the man wanted, but he got the nerve to whisper, "Who are you?"

"Just call me Logan," the man said carefully. Maybe sensing some of the fear he felt. "Ya shouldn't be out here at this hour."

And despite himself, Scott snorted, panic quickly turning into anger. "Yeah, well . . . my Jag got a flat and I was waiting for my driver to pick me up," he answered bitterly while thinking, What does this guy know about it? 

But the man, Logan merely sighed and put a piece of paper and some cash in his hand. "You want off, there's a place for people like us here." Like us, shit, did this man know about me? He thought shocked, but despite that he managed an indifferent, "Yeah, whatever," As he uncurled and carefully made his way away from the man running like hell as soon as he hit the sidewalk.  

Sighing, Scott rang the bell. For some strange reason, the memory made him angry, and very reckless, Whatever that guy meant by 'us', I'm not gonna play it safe. Shit! I don't care what they do to me, I'm so tired, I just wanna go. He thought as he ran a hand though his messy hair, breathing hard. His whole existence revolving around five simple words that came straight from a battered soul. I just wanna go home. 

Inside the Mansion, Jean sighed as she put her coat on to walk outside to see who it was that had rung the bell. Do to a certain mad scientist, the electricity was out in the main gates needing manual handling to open or close. 'Jean, I simply cannot leave my experiment unattended' my ass. Hank just didn't want to freeze his butt out here, she thought bitterly as she opened the door to walk onto the frozen wasteland. Not even full blown winter and they had already gotten two inches of snow. "If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to get him for this." 

Using her telekinetic powers to keep the cold air from hitting her directly, Jean carefully made her way through the white covered lawn to the a young man standing on the other side, wearing dark sun-glasses and holding a white cane in his right hand, blind without a doubt. He was visibly trembling from the cold, and his ragged clothes were worn thin, providing little protection from the unbearable cold. He was taller than her, but not by much. Dark brown hair that looked kept despite its greasiness.  

"Hello! May I help you?" She asked uncertainly, trying to get a reading on the young man.

"This guy named Logan told me to come here if I ever needed a place to stay," Scott stated simply, with an unnervingly blank expression.

Jean was somewhat rattled by the mention of Logan's name. He wasn't someone you just casually know, least of all have given this address.   **__**

Let him in Jean, and bring him to my office,  the professor's mental voice rang in her head. 

**_But professor . . ._** She tried, unsure of the wisdom of letting a complete stranger in their home.

**_Please allow him to enter before he freezes._**  She could hear the professor's amusement.

Confused, she let the boy in at the professor's request. "Uh . . . do you . . . um, need a hand or . . .?" Jean asked nervously, unsure as how to offer help.

"No." The boy answered simple, as Jean tried to keep her temper under control. He was rude, but there was something behind it that she couldn't quite put her finger on. She moved toward the mansion slowly, letting the boy keep up. He was young, she could tell almost immediately, a few years younger than her and despite the baggy clothes, he looked like those children of India. All bones and skin with barely any meat on them. Sad, really. Then a sudden thought crept into her mind, as though she just realized that the boy came unaccompanied, Where're his parents?  

He really didn't know what he'd been expecting, maybe a halfway home or run down shelter, but every sense he had was showing a very different picture. It was warm, that was the only word to describe this place, warm and fresh and expensive. All smooth and clean. The smell of flowers and polish, scented candles and old furniture. Long and wide halls covered with rugs, footsteps and the house's constant shifting echoed in the large extended area. It was like nowhere he had ever been or thought he would be in his lifetime – no matter how long or short it would've be. 

It was unnerving that anyone living in such a place would want street trash like him in their home, all the more adding to his anxiety. The man in the wheel chair – the sound of rubber giving it away – seemed kind. A slight British or English accent toned the gentle voice. He hadn't been demanding or an overbearing snob, just . . . nice. Introduced himself, the girl that let me in and welcomed him as though he were another student joining his flock. He hadn't known how to react to that, but was quickly lead to "his" room and not another

Now he sat on a bed that felt as though he were sitting on a cloud, in a room he had no business occupying. He couldn't believe they had let him stay, no matter what that man Logan had said and for a brief moment, panic had nearly made him leave before they did whatever they had planned for him. He couldn't believe they had let him stay and But then logic kicked in, that and the depression that had been plaguing him for months now. Where would he go that wasn't as bad as the places he had been in most of his life – at least that that he could remember –. There was no one, he had no one to care for or be taken cared of, not anymore. No friends, no family, he was alone. 

What did it matter if he lived or died? Nothing they did to him could be worse than what he had been through on the streets. Listening intently to make sure he was alone, the boy laid down on the bed, letting the listlessness wash over him. For tonight, he was going to sleep in a warm bed with clean sheets and nothing else mattered beyond that. 

Tum! Tum! Tum! . . . To be continued J. 


	2. Part 2

**Title: **Strange Encounters                                                                                      

**_Date: _**_06/14/03_

**Author: **Water-Soter

**Main Characters/Pairings: ** Scott, Jean, Professor X, Bobby, Warren, Hank, Logan, Ororo.

**Series: ** The Road Home Book I Part 2

**Feedback: **Absolutely! I'm new at this, so please don't burn me at the stake. Nevertheless I will appreciate any comments or suggestions you have on this story J. Write to me at www.Water_Soter@yahoo.com ****

**Disclaimer**: These characters belong to Marvel comics and the almighty Stan Lee. It's free so please don't take the shirt of my back J. 

**Warning: **this story contains mild mentions of rape, violence and foul language. So be warned, if you're easily offended, please don't read. Otherwise J be afraid, be very afraid . . . hee! ha ha ha ha  (diabolical laugh!).

Squishy  thoughts          "Yummy"  spoken         **_Whoopee_**   telepathy

"WHAT?" Warren's voice echoed throughout the kitchen, where he, Hank, Jean, Bobby were having breakfast. "I can't believe the professor let a complete stranger stay here."

"Don't you mean . . . a poor person," Bobby snorted lightly, rolling his eyes at his friend

"NO! You know me better than that, _Drake_." Warren stated, annoyed. "The guy could be a psycho for all we know!"

"I believe our winged friend has a point. What assurances do we have that the child won't attempt to commit some perverse ritualistic deed? Perhaps . . . a mass murder?" Hank spoke, trying unsuccessfully to keep a straight face. That comment earned him a dirty look from Warren. Jean merely rolled her eyes at them, and Bobby stuffed himself with Lucky Charms. "He's harmless, Warren. Besides, the professor would never let anyone stay if he thought they were dangerous," Jean explained, exasperated. I knew it was a bad idea to tell them, but the professor wanted them to know. *Sigh*, how can Warren think Scott to be dangerous, he's just a little kid for Christ sake, not that much older than Bobby. What's wrong with him, I've never seen him act so . . . snobbish. Jean though exasperated, unaware that her friend had spoken to her. "Huh?" 

Sighing dramatically, Hank stared at his redheaded friend. "I had previously inquired about the whereabouts of our guest." 

"Oh, he's still asleep. The professor asked me to give him a tour of the mansion after breakfast." 

Warren nearly choked on his milk. "By yourself?" He asked, incredulous. "No way! I'm going with you." 

Bobby and Hank rolled their eyes at him, while Jean merely gave him a hard look.

"Listen Worthington," Jean said in a tone that made lesser men quiver at her feet, "I don't need you playing mister macho, I can take care of myself" 

And to emphasize her point, she telekinetically lifted her dishes from the table and practically threw them into the sink. Stalking off as the room shook with her departure. 

"Damn! I think you pissed her off." Bobby muttered as Warren shot him a dirty look and climbed to his feet to follow Jean. 

Bobby watched Warren leave, deciding he was going to hover near those two. "Man, there's gonna be trouble."

"Your perception of the obvious is rather remarkable," Hank deadpanned, as he imagined what Jean was going to do to Warren when she found out he'd been following them. "I will ensure that our Med Lab is well stocked. If Jeannie has anything to do with it, Warren will find himself needing the facilities in the next couple of days." 

Bobby merely nodded feeling sorry for the guy, then grinned thinking gleefully, This is going to be fun!

He could feel hands grabbing him, holding him down on the dirty ground. So many hands, so many voices making the fear in him spike-up sharply. He couldn't move, gasping for breath as another pair stripped off his clothing. He struggled, fighting back as hard as he could as futile as it was. The painful hard grip was nothing compared to the terrible feel of them ripping into him. And God It hurt! Burning hot pain seeping throughout his small frame, all too familiar but just as bad as it had been the first time. Unbearable, and his mind screamed what his mouth was unable too, It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Please God! Make it stop, please . . . it hurts so much . . .   

"No," Scott gasped, as he woke with a start by a loud pounding on the door. A thin film of sweat made his t-shirt stick to his thin body. Breathing heavily, the boy tried to get his bearings. 

Where am I? Scott thought with dread. He was on a bed, smooth, warm. Holding his breath to listen to the faintest of sounds. After a few moments of silence, the young boy frantically moved his hands around, making sure the he was in fact the sole occupant. The sheets were soft and clean. It was something he wasn't used to, but he assumed that a expensive school like this would have nice stuff. Being "blind" had forced him to be observant of his surroundings. Smell, sound, touch and even taste had kept him alive so far. Although coming here might as well be a death wish.  

A knock at the door startled him, nearly making the brunet jump out of bed. In a rush, the noise brought to the surface more unpleasant memories that he quickly suppressed, not wanting to take a trip down "memory lane" for a second time today and it was already morning. Taking a few breaths to compose himself, Scott answered quietly, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice, "yeah?"

"Um . . . it's me, Jean. The girl you met yesterday," she responded a little nervous. "It's kinda late, and I was wondering if you wanted to go down the kitchen for some breakfast. Then if you want, I'll give you a tour of the school." 

A tour . . . and _food_? Scott thought suspiciously, but his stomach's growl made him push that aside for now. "Yeah." 

With a shrug, he got out of bed and blindly made his way to the bathroom. Man! I wish I had time to take a shower. This place probably has water pressure and real soap,

Catching that stray thought, Jean berated herself Stupid! Of course he'd want to take a shower. God knows how long it's been since he's had a chance for a decent one. 

"Um . . . you'd probably want to take a shower so I'll wait for you, okay?" 

"Are you trying to tell me something?" Scott answered with a hint of amusement etching in his voice. 

Oh God! Jean immediately answered obviously embarrass. "I just thought that you wanted . . . I mean that . . ." She abruptly stopped talking, "I'll just let you get ready." She sighed and left, her footsteps echoing along the hallway. 

Despite his suspicions, Scott found himself smiling at the thought of the girl's obvious embarrassment. Shaking his head, Scott began to familiarize himself with the bathroom, committing everything to memory. The fresh pine scent, the smooth marble sink, nothing remotely similar to the bathrooms in the motel rooms, public johns, or any other he had been too. Part of him wanted to cry, while another wanted to freeze time so he could stay in this place forever. This was just too good to be true. 

"So, the kid finally showed up." The mysterious man known only as Logan stated as he leaned against the antique oak paneling in the headmaster's office. Gruff looking with light stubble on his double shinned jaw line. Steel blue eyes that held too much knowledge possible for someone his age.      

"You doubted he would?" 

"Wasn't sure 'Ro. He's a street kid. They don't trust," he stated as a matter-of-fact eying the young African goddess. 

"Perhaps, but he is here now, that is all that matters." Ororo Munroe spoke with the same strength and elegance that she displayed in her command over the elements. A beauty that held true to her given title. Eyes too blue for her mocha silk skin.      

"Yeah, well, the kid must've been desperate, or just too burned out to give a damn," Logan said gruffly with a hint of sadness. 

"The child has had a hard life, I do not believe he would have survived much longer." Charles Xavier, who'd kept silent, finally spoke. His voice strong, assertive, but an underlying sadness that was mirrored in his hazel gaze. Young in his profession, with an intellect that made him capable of finishing a double doctorate in both psychology and genetics at twenty-five. "We must tread carefully my friends."  

"How can we heal him, Charles?" 

"It is a delicate process, Ororo, one we must not take lightly or hasten." Charles stated calmly. 

"So what do ya have in mind, Chuck?" Logan asked, pushing himself off the wall to stand next to the weather goddess' chair.

"Trust is invaluable to all, we must strive to gain his. Ororo, I believe that with your previous experiences, you will be best suited to accomplish this."    

"Very well Charles, but do you not think that Logan's presence might serve to put him at ease?"

With a proud smile, Charles replied, "Of course, Ororo, I don't know how something so pivotal could slip my mind."

"You're getting old Bub,"

"That coming from an antique,"

"It's always the quiet ones."

"Ahem, Ororo, Logan, it has been a very long day. If you would excuse me, I think I will retire for the evening." 

"Yes of course Charles." The weather goddess said, getting up and proceeding to exit the office followed closely by Logan.

"G'night Chuck."

"Goodnight, and please, behave yourselves." Charles added with a smirk, lightning blazing outside. 

"Wouldn't think of it." Logan returned the smirk closing the door as quietly as possible, leaving a very amused man to settle his thoughts.

Today had been tiring, but with the knowledge that the Scott was finally with them, safe, he would be able to get a goodnight's rest.  

Tum! Tum! Tum! . . . To be continued J. 


	3. Note!

**Note: **Sorry, this isn't a chappie but I'm working on part 3 as we speak. Just wanted to see if anyone would be interested in being added to my mailing list, so as soon as I'd update either Strange Encounters or From One End To Another, you'd get an e-mail telling you the next part of the story's up. Just e-mail me if you're interested. Thank you for your reviews!


	4. Part 3

**Title: **Strange Encounters

**_Date: _**_06/14/03_

**Author: **Water-Soter

**Main Characters/Pairings: ** Scott, Jean, Professor X, Bobby, Warren, Hank, Logan, Ororo and Connie.

**Series: ** The Road Home Book I Part 3

**Feedback: **Absolutely! I'm new at this, so please don't burn me at the stake. Nevertheless I will appreciate any comments or suggestions you have on this story J. Write to me at www.Water_Soter@yahoo.com ****

**Disclaimer**: These characters belong to Marvel comics and the almighty Stan Lee. It's free so please don't take the shirt of my back J. Connie belongs to me and may not be used without my permission.

**Warning: **this story contains mild mentions of rape, violence and foul language. So be warned, if you're easily offended, please don't read. Otherwise J be afraid, be very afraid . . . hee! ha ha ha ha  (diabolical laugh!).****

Squishy  thoughts          "Yummy"  spoken         **_Whoopee_**   telepathy

The library seemed about one-third the size of the one in New York. Scott could tell from the echo their voices made. There were a lot of old books. Probably antique from the smell and feel of them. The place was huge with all kinds of rooms -- billiard, recreation, dinning, ball, and others that Scott had no idea what good they were. Not that he didn't know for what or what they were for, but because he couldn't fathom a place were things like this were the norm. Only in books and magazines, he'd always assumed. They were far away from anywhere he would ever live or even die in; the gutter was be closer to where he belonged. 

But above all, the thing he noted more than anything else, was the smell. Everything was too clean. No overwhelming scent of piss, shit or rotting food; just flowers, pine and freshly polished furniture. It was nauseating. Things here were smooth and soft, no muck covering anything. 

After the first hour, he felt a headache coming on. It was so unlike anywhere he'd ever been to. The lack of sound didn't help his aching head. It was so quiet here, you could probably hear a pin drop on the other side of the house. Everything here was nice, everything here was perfect. He didn't belong here; he belonged in a gutter somewhere digging through the trash for something edible.   

"Um . . . well, there's a couple of  . . ." the young woman mumbled uncertainly.

"Yeah?" Scott encouraged.                        

This girl was beginning to get on his nerves. Part of him understood how strange this was for her, but this was getting ridiculous. He was the blind one, and he seemed to be doing all the leading, asking to go here or there, or where things were and how they looked like. You'd think after the first twenty-three times she would get the hint, he thought bemused.  

"They're to your left um . . . twenty feet to your left." 

Scott moved around a bit to get a better feel of the place. He wondered vaguely if they had any Braille books when Jean's voice brought him out of his thoughts.   

"To your right, um, there's some tables we use to do our homework. We also have five different . . ."

Jean's description was cut off when three sets of footsteps entered the room. One was in front leading the other two. The first sounded assertive, almost primal, while the other two seemed uncertain, inexperienced. "So, ya finally decided to show up," a gruff voice came from a few feet in front of the doorway, one that Scott recognized. 

I was wondering when that man'd show up, the boy thought, noting that guy that had been following them from the onset was right outside in the hallway. "Yeah, so?" 

"So? Ya took yer time." The man said with a hint of humor. Scott could hear the shift in the man's weight and suspected that he had turned toward the other two people. "If yer gonna stay here, ya should meet the others. This is Drake and McCoy." 

The other two people took a few steps forward, leaving a comfortable distance between them and Scott. "Robert and Hank if you please. It is very nice to meet you." The larger of the two said in a playful but intellectual tone, the proximity of his voice startling Scott, who tried unsuccessfully to cover it. He seemed to be a bit large, but he had to be very agile to cover it so well. In fact, if Scott's blindness hadn't enhanced his other senses, he wouldn't have been able to pick up his footfall. He was some kind of medic or something down that line because he smelled of disinfectant and antibiotic, but he sounded like he was in his late teens to early twenties, not having that awkward pitch in his voice, "Our first names will suffice." 

"It's Bobby, not Robert!" The other one burst out unnervingly. He obviously hated being called Robert. He smelled of sugar and lots of junk food, young. Scott could even picture the boy pouting with that remark. "So you're Scott! SEE WARREN, HE DOESN'T BITE!"

Suddenly the room went quiet, their attention drawn to the guy in the hallway. The girl next to Scott made a sudden motion that he couldn't tell if it was of surprise or anger. This girl sure has a temper, I wouldn't like to be in that guy's shoes. He thought with a snort, hearing another, more delicate and elegant footfall. Confident, with a notch of arrogance. 

"Get in here 'wings'," the older man's intense voice echoed in the room, as footsteps could be heard approaching the other two guys, "and *this*, kid, is Worthington."

"Warren," the new guy offered coolly, giving no indication that he liked Scott. 

There came an uncomfortable silence that allowed the brunet to examined these people a little more closely. Scott was self-conscious of the fact that he was being 'observed' by them, as though he were some piece of garbage laying in the middle of the Ritz's spit-clean marble floors. It annoyed the hell out of him, but Scott was practical. This was their home, and he was merely a 'guest'; so he played it cool.

He focused his attention on the new guy. He didn't like Scott, it was obvious in the cold way he spoke. He was rich, the scent of expensive shampoo gave him away, not to mention the elitist tone in his voice. Probably has his hands manicured to boot, the boy thought annoyed, but a sound at the doorway drew his attention.    

"It appears that all of you are getting acquainted." An English accented voice came from somewhere in the hallway, he immediately recognized it as Professor Xavier's. "Hello Scott. I trust you had restful slumber."

Scott cocked his head to the side, searching for the it's origin. He could tell that Xavier was by the doorway with a woman by his side. The slight hint of sweet perfume lingered in the air, quite different from the bitter accented one the young woman by his side had on. She smelled like lilies and rain. 

The professor motored himself inside, followed closely by the woman. The people in the room moved to the sides, as the woman moved in front of Scott, and to the boy's surprise, placed a hand on his shoulder. For some strange reason, he didn't flinch or pull away, instead he found comfort in the warmth of her touch. 

"Scott, this is Ororo Munroe, another teacher at this school," Xavier spoke softly, keeping his tone even but kind, "I am certain you remember Logan. He is in charge of all the physical activities of all our students."

Scott merely nodded toward the direction of the voice and felt a tad disappointed when Ororo's hand left his shoulder, taking all her warmth and strength. He had never felt such power from anyone, it was . . . breathtaking. Idly, the boy wondered how any one person could feel so warm. A heat that was so foreign to the Scott, for he had always felt as though his body were covered in ice, cold despite weather, clothing, or safe in the place resided.  

"Now that you are well rested," Xavier began, bringing the brunet out of his reverie, "I believe it is time that we address your current living status." That comment made Scott's heart sink. He'd hoped that he would have a little more time to enjoy all this luxury, but like all good things in the young boy's life, there were too few, and sadly, very far in between. "If you would please follow me to my office, we can discuss this matter privately."

Scott followed tensely, knowing that the other shoe was about to drop and "Alice" was about to wake from wonderland. At least now I have a full stomach, he thought bitterly, following slowly the sound of rubber on what was probably a very expensive rug.  

"Jeez, Warren, and they call me frosty." Bobby stated as soon as the professor was out of ear shot. 

"I must agree with Robert, Warren. The child does seem perturbed enough without any of us adding to it." Hank added with a pensive look. 

"I still don't trust him." Warren retaliated annoyed. He walked to one of the chairs and sat huffily followed by the other students. 

"So you keep telling us." Jean said rolling her eyes. 

"So tell us, my young winged friend, what is it about our less-than-fortunate guest that has, and I use the term loosely, ruffled your feathers?"

Warren turned his ice blue eyes to Hank, the others looking at him expectantly. The tension in the room seemed to double as some of them began to notice the sudden absence of their teachers. "I don't . . . _dislike_ him, okay." Warren snapped breaking the momentary silence. 

He fidgeted a little as Jean's eyes narrowed, "Of course not, that's why you're bringing out the welcome wagon." She replied sarcastically making the others flinch at the tone. Her redhead temperament was legendary, and all knew better than to do anything to make it worse. Incredibly as it seemed, she let out a sigh and continued in a calm and understanding way, shocking her fellow teammates. "Listen, Warren. I know he's a little . . . _strange_ and I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a hundred percent about the professor letting him stay . . ."

The look in her eyes spoke volumes only adding to the effect of her words. The message was loud and clear, and for a moment, Warren and Jean locked eyes, an unspoken promise to back down that all present sensed. 

"Man, I'm hungry." Bobby broke in, as the others allowed the youngest among them to lead them away to stiller waters. "Do you think Connie's got dinner ready?"

Hank looked surprised at the youth before quickly checking his watch for the time, "Oh my stars and gathers! It's well past five." He spoke with astonishment.

"Time flies, you know." Warren added with a grin.

"You guys are hopeless." Jean said as she rolled her eyes. 

"Ah, but you love us anyway." Hank added, smiling mischievously at his friend. 

"Maybe we should go check to make sure Connie doesn't need anything." Bobby said in a non-sequitur. That comment earning him a smack on the head from Warren. 

"Isn't there anything else you can think of other than stuffing yourself?" 

"Sure there is," Bobby shouted at him in mock indignation. "Video games, comics, food . . ."

Warren was about to smack him again but Bobby made a quick dash toward the hallway, stopping only to turn around and stick out his tongue at him and add, "It's better than doing whatever you do with your dirty magazines in the bathroom. I think half of New York can hear you." And he ran as fast as his legs could carry him with the golden blond youth in hot pursuit.

"Laugh it up, frost boy, but when I get through with you, all you'll have between your legs will be a dead stick!" Warren's angry voice echoed through the hallway, leaving a couple of very amused teens in the library.

"Boys!" Jean said out loud, exasperated.

Shaking his head at the other youth's antics, Hank added, "You cannot really expect any less, after all, the male species is a rather complicated creature." 

"Boys!" She yelled and stalked out of the room.

"Was it something I said." Hank inquired trying to stifle a laugh, thinking Never a dull moment. before proceeding to find Warren to prevent him from killing Bobby.   

"Scott, please take a seat. There is one three feet in front of you to your right." The boy felt his way around, and reluctantly sat on one of the rather large chairs in front of the professor's desk, his posture tense and alert. Sighing, Xavier observed the young man from his place behind his carefully polished oak desk. His powerful mind scanning the very surfaces of the youth's mind in an attempt to get an idea as to where to begin. Not that he was ever at a loss for words, but dealing with such an obviously troubled teen, he sought anything that might facilitate what was to come.

The boy was thin, very thin to be exact and extremely pale, giving him a sickly appearance. His hair was messy, long enough to reach his chin but well kept. His clothing was worn out with barely noticeable holes toward the ends. He was certainly not dressed properly for the kind of the weather he had been out in, short sleeved shirt that was too small for him unlike his dark pants which seemed as though they might fall down at any moment. He needed to be fed, groomed, dressed properly so badly that it was all that Xavier could do to restrain to restrain himself from reaching out, and holding the boy to ease all his woes.  

Since his discovery of the child, Charles had sought out any and all information regarding the child, including some disturbing medical records. It had awed him that despite all the suffering the boy had known, he was still willing to risk trusting once more. Was it mere desperation or simply an overwhelming need to be loved, to be cared for? After all, wasn't this one of the most basic human needs? But now Charles felt his stomach turn, never before had so much been riding on a single conversation. The future of this young man rested in his hands.

Taking a beep breath, he let his mind brush ever so lightly against the youth's. His thoughts were not as guarded as they'd been the previous day. The boy was very anxious, but he really didn't need his powers to tell him so. The brunet's constant fidgeting gave that away. He was scared, a fear so deeply rooted that he wondered if the child was even aware of it. Afraid of being used, afraid to trust, afraid to hope for something better . . . afraid; period. And in pain, something he had known for so long, that getting through that hard shell that had been built up was going to require an incredible amount of patience as well as time.

Deciding on a best course of action, Charles began asking information that despite the fact that he had already obtained with the child's documentation, he believed that this would be a good place to start. "What was the last grade you finished?"

The boy nearly jumped at the sudden sound, then answered softly, "Second"

"We will have to test you to see at which grade you will begin your studies." By the look on the boy's face, Charles could tell that he was surprised and couldn't help but smile, "also, you will need proper attire for this weather. Tomorrow I will have Ororo and Jean escort you to the mall. Is there anything specific that you require?"

Dumbfounded, the boy merely shook his head and the professor continued, smiling wryly, "Very well then. The room which you are currently occupying is reserved for guests. Since you wish to remain with us . . ." 

They want me to . . . to stay . . . here? With them? The child's thoughts ripped through his mind, stopping him in mid-sentence. Caught completely off-guard at the intensity of the thoughts followed so closely by the words, "You wu want . . . want me . . . to stay . . . hu here . . . At your house?" The boy stuttered incredulous.  

"Yes, Scott." Xavier answered without hesitation, but with a hint of sadness. He could almost see the confusing emanated from the boy as though the mere idea that he was wanted, welcomed was something beyond absurd. 

Silence fell upon the room, broken only by a voice no louder than a whisper, uncertain, "Why?"   

Never had an entire future depended upon the answer to such a simple question. This was what would "make or break" the fragile soul before him, and Charles was never more aware of what was riding on this, a life.

"Because child, you are one of a small percentage of humans with extraordinary abilities, a mutant as it were. We wish for you to become a student at this school. To teach you how to use your powers along with the normal school curriculum."

"So you want me here 'cause I'm a mutie." The youth laughed bitterly at that, making Charles cringe. He had to stop the train of thought that had begun, as a wash-load of emotions accompanied that statement. He could see the child fidgeting, his mind suddenly very much aware of his crummy clothes in such an expensive setting, very out-of-place the in such an expensive setting, the ugly duckling among the flock of swans.

"No, Scott, you are not here mer . . ." Charles began, being cut-off once again.          

"Do-don't. Do. That!" the boy practically yelled, standing abruptly, but just as suddenly his voice dropped to a mere whisper his face contorted with fear, "Don't . . . don't lie." 

Charles was at a loss, one moment the boy's rage radiated off of him in waves, the next, it had retreated transforming into a desperate anguish. He watched as the trembling child sat back down, curling up into a fetal position. Did he believe that his outburst would be punished? Even with his telepathy, Charles was having a lot of difficulty reading the child. He really hadn't realized how much he depended on his telepathy to get a better inside look into the psyche of patients. Now this youth was paying for his shortcomings, but he'd be damned if he let this get in the way of the boy's well-being. 

"I'm not child." He spoke softly but firmly, leaving no room to doubt his sincerity. "I will not lie to you. My desire for you to remain with us _is_ because you're a mutant, but not for reasons you believe. I wish to teach you, the basic school curriculum yes, but also how to use your special abilities, to control them. A future Scott, that is what I am offering you, an opportunity, but the choice is entirely yours. I will not force it upon you."

Charles saw the youth visibly calm as he mused over his words. He has said all there was to say at this point hoping it would be enough. Minutes seemed like hours as he felt the torrent of emotions coming from the youth despite his serene exterior, but nothing that could give away the boy's inclination.  

"How do I know I can trust you?" The child spoke quietly, but loud enough for Charles to hear. So much uncertainty but also hope rapped in his tone, his face half-hidden behind his knees.  

"Trust, I believe, is something to be earned. In time I wish we will earn yours, that is all I can offer." 

"I gu-guess so."

"Then you will remain?"

"Ye-yeah, I 'spose."

Letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding, Charles smiled warmly at the boy, "Very well then. We have much to discuss." It wasn't the way he had thought things would commence, but it was a beginning. A start to what would hopefully be a bright future.   

Tum! Tum! Tum! . . . To be continued J. 


	5. Part 4

**Title: **Strange Encounters                                                                                                                                                 **_Date: _**_08/02/03_

**Author: **Water-Soter

**Main Characters/Pairings: ** Scott, Jean, Professor X, Bobby, Warren, Hank, Logan, Ororo, Connie and Moira.

**Series: ** The Road Home Book I Part 4

**Author's Notes: **Even though this story is an AU, some facts are taken from the various X-Men verses. This story is dedicated to Nadja for her kind words and support, and to Amber for her inspiration. Thank you both. Without you this wouldn't be posted. I want to thank my beta-god Tarch for his initial work on this fic and as always, my current beta Kris for working her magic on this. You so RULE! J 

**Feedback: **Absolutely! I'm new at this, so please don't burn me at the stake. Nevertheless I will appreciate any comments or suggestions you have on this story J. Write to me at www.Water_Soter@yahoo.com ****

**Disclaimer**: These characters belong to Marvel comics and the almighty Stan Lee. It's free so please don't take the shirt of my back J. Connie belong to me and may not be used without my permission.

**Warning: **this story contains mild mentions of rape, violence and foul language. So be warned, if you're easily offended, please don't read. Otherwise J be afraid, be very afraid . . . hee! ha ha ha ha  (diabolical laugh!).****

                                  Squishy  thoughts          "Yummy"  spoken         **_Whoopee_**   telepathy

In the rough, worn-out warehouse district somewhere in the Bronx.

"WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEAN YOU LOST 'IM?" A rough man, hairy but muscular shouted at the two men before him, the empty aluminum walls rebounded his voice throughout the large area.

"I'-it's like this, boss, ya see . . . ah . . ." The shorter of the two men mumbled, cowering before his angry boss.

"We had 'im cornered in 'Braska, but he just upped and left." Another one spoke, eyeing the first with annoyance.

"So, where the fuck did the freak go!" Their leader boomed, smashing a large fist into part of an air vent on the ground.

"We 'hink to New York, at 'east that's what Har said." The second spoke again, looking at his boss with a bit of fright.

"Listen you shit-heads, you find him, and when you do, bring him to here, UNDERSTAND?" 

"Yeah, 'ure boss." The second man answered for both of them, seeing his partner too pale and shaken to get even a squeak out.

"NOW! No one leaves me, you hear, not that little piece of shit, not that cunt, bitch, NO ONE!" 

Ororo Munrou always woke with the rising sun, a habit she'd developed in her time as an African Goddess. Before she had accidentally flooded another village, before she was forced into hiding from an angry mob, before she had run into a young Charles Xavier who had been treating the ill in a small 'hospital' not far from where she had made a small shack. So many things had brought this young woman to this place she now called home, she owed her future to this man, and now another child would be in his debt as well.

The white haired woman stared at the beautiful sunrise, how the sky broke into a multitude of pastel colors from the blackness of the night. The rays of light caressing lovingly the snow covered area around the school, even the empty trees and bushes showed a sing of life with the commencement of a new day. The energy that flowed as life starting anew gave her the serene feeling she craved, especially today.  

Why me, Charles? She thought exasperated, the confidence she had felt days before faltering as the full weight of the enormous responsibility her mentor had placed on her shoulders sank in. All doubts, all anxiety she had calmed down when the proud thrill of Charles trusting her with something like this came back unbidden, What could _I_ possibly offer Scott that you yourself could not?

"By the Bright Lady, what have I gotten myself into?" She whispered, burying her head in her hands.

"Talking to yerself 'Ro? Not a good sign ya know?" A strong male voice startled the young woman, nearly making her loose her balance and falling three stories, turning toward her attic bedroom from her place on the window sill. She could see her long time friend standing at the doorway, a wicked grin on his stubble covered face.

"Logan!" She practically shouted, "There is such a thing as knocking before entering another's room."

Shrugging, the man made his way to her, stopping just short of her delicate frame. "Just thought ya might  need to talk before heading down for breakfast."

Eyeing him, she let out a long, weary sigh, "I am surprised Connie would allow us to be tardy for _any_ meal, she is insanely obsessive when it comes to food. Hmm, perhaps our very own Queen Mary will chop off our heads." 

The older man just stared at her, " What?"

"Nothing, Darling, just didn't figure ya had a sense of humor in ya, that's all." He replied coyly while shaking his head.

She glared, he laughed at that. "Been hanging around Jeannie too much."

"If you came here to irritate me, _little man_, you are doing a wonderful job at it."

"Nah, I just wanted ya to lighten up and tell me what's wrong. Ya've been wearing that 'kicked puppy' look since dinner last night." He sat next to her, playing with a cigar in his rough hands. 

"How did things go last night?" At his questioning look, she continued, "With Charles and the child."

"Well . . . Charles was pissed." When she raised an eyebrow at him, he ginned, "Yeah, I know, Charlie doesn't get mad, but he was, at himself though."

"Why was that?"

"Ya know Chuck, relies too much on his powers to read people."

"I suppose he forgets that not all people are easy to read."

"Yeah, well, the kid almost bolted and he wasn't too thrilled with that. But I think he got the message loud and clear. The boy's gonna be good for him. For ya too ya know."

She stared ahead, seeing the splash of colors covering the sky, beautiful was a poor word to describe it. 

"I'm afraid." She said after a moment of silence. It was hard for her to admit this much to anyone. "I'm afraid that I will not be able to help Scott."

Logan just studied the young woman, letting the silence stretch before commenting, "Ya two come from the streets 'Ro."

"Yes, I know. But I at least had a family, even if it was ill fated, I was part of something, belonged somewhere. How can I step back to those times with all that has happened since?"

Putting a muscular arm around her, he held her close, like the first time he had when she had broken down. "Listen to me, 'Ro, ya don't need to go back there to help him, hell I'm probably the last person who should be telling ya this, but the kid needs someone he can relate to. I can't do it because he doesn't trust men, Charles can't because even though the guy went through hell with his stepdad, they come from different places."

"And you think that I am the most qualified."

"Not really," He said with a grin, earning him a hard smack from the white-haired woman. "But if ya need someone to talk to about it, ya should go pay Connie a visit. She and her husband used to run a shelter before he was killed in a drive-by. She's dealt with it all, maybe that's why she runs the place like a drill sergeant."

"Making even the big, bad Wolverine cower before her wrath." She added coyly.

"Ya got that right, Darlin'," He answered while puffing his chest, "Even _I_ know my limitations, kid."

And at that, she burst out laughing, letting the tension drain out of her before the only person that could make her break her rigid control. "Logan, you're an idiot."

"But ya love me anyway," He said with a wink, "C'mon, 'Ro, ya need to gather up your ducklings for your little trip to the mall before they start running wild on ya."

"Mother Goose, am I?"

"Well, someone's gotta keep them in line." And they left for breakfast as Ororo let the anxiety drain from her, letting her natural calm fall on her, "Ya gonna be just fine, Charles wouldn't let ya loose on them if he didn't trust ya."

"Thank you, Canuck." She said with an impish smile, before rapping her arm in Logan's.

"Yeah, well, ya better not call me that in front of the kiddies, they might start getting ideas."

"Of course not, I would hate to tarnish your reputation." 

Three hours in a noisy, crowded mall was enough to make Scott want to run into the hills screaming. He had always hated public places, always preferring quiet and desolated areas where he couldn't accidentally run into someone. Here he felt vulnerable, more handicapped because his senses were overwhelmed. These places always made him lose control, and although few things in his life were his to manage, Scott clung to them like a drowning man to a life raft. 

Jean walked next to him, acting as his guide while Ororo was at his left and the rest of the 'men' were behind them, carrying all their load. Between the two females, they had managed to buy half the mall making Hank, Bobby and himself groan each time Jean or Ororo would mention that they stop at a shop. Strangely enough, Warren had been the most complacent, helping pick out things for Scott, and being the most notorious critic. "This isn't even wearable . . . whoever came up with the idea that woman were fashion gurus . . ." were among his usual comments. 

All in all, the process had been less painful than Scott had thought it would be. He had enough clothes to last him for the rest of his life, but Jean insisted that he still needed another pair of gloves and some scarves. 

"Are you done yet?" The youngest among them wined for the eleventh time, vocalizing his own question that he was too 'old' to ask. He could almost see the vicious look Jean sent him, the young man hiding behind the bigger boy, Hank as he observed the exchange with bewildered amusement. 

"Jean, I do not mean to be difficult," Jean just glanced at Hank, daring him to say another word, "But if we were to purchase another item, I fear we will leave the premises vacant of obtainable items." Jean just sighed, thinking of ways to 'accidentally' clobber her friends. 

Scott on the other hand, was feeling a bit ill. His ever constant headache was sharpened by the racket of people coming and going. It hadn't been this bad in a long while, and he was starting to feel nauseous and faint. He was trying desperately to keep his mind focused on anything else when someone rushed by them, nearly knocking Jean and him down. 

The moment that Scott came in contact with the man, his power surfaced, causing him to connect mentally to him. The man's memories rushed through Scott's mind, causing him to waver. 

Hank and Warren were there in a flash keeping the boy from hitting the ground. While Jean and Ororo made way for them to set Scott in a thankfully empty bench with Bobby closely following behind. 

Scott was clutching his head, trying futilely to halt the images coming to his head. A first birthday of a child, a proud father holding the baby as she took her first steps, the baby's body lying lifelessly in her fathers arms. Stop, stop, STOP! The boy couldn't take much more. He felt like his skull was being ripped apart.

Jean tried using her telepathy to enter his mind, but his shields unconsciously threw her out. He was shaking and pale, completely unresponsive. Hank shook him as Jean contacted the professor telepathically, but just as quickly as it had begun, it ended. 

"Scott, what happened?" Hank stared at Scott, his arms still on his shoulders. The concern in his voice brought Scott completely out of the stupor. He felt weak and lightheaded. 

"I . . ." was all that Scott managed to say as he tried to stand only to nearly collapse; Hank and Jean kept him from falling to the ground.

"We must take him back to the mansion," Ororo said as Warren and Bobby grabbed the shopping bags and Hank and Jean helped Scott along. People stared, but they just ignored them, focusing on the youth. 

Scott kept grabbing his head, as they made their way outside to the SUV. "Jean, contact the professor. Inform him of what has happened and that we will be there shortly."

Jean nodded as Hank placed Scott carefully in the vehicle while Warren and Bobby took either side, making sure he was strapped in. The drive back was quiet, Scott drifting in and out of consciousness. 

Ororo prayed, Goddess, do not let there be anything seriously wrong with the child. 

"What's up Chuck?" Logan said coming into his study after receiving the mental summon from Xavier. 

"Jean has just contacted me. Something has appears to have happened to Scott."

Logan's face visibly paled but he maintained his detached demeanor, "Where? I'll get the Blackbird ready and . . ."

"That will not be necessary," Logan stared at the professor, giving him a questioning look, "Ororo is bringing them back here and should be arriving here in thirty minutes." 

Logan crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. "Looks like ya have everything under control. So what ya need me for?" he asked, voice edged with annoyance.  

Charles eyed the man carefully, "I need you to help Scott down to the Med Lab when he arrives and stay with him, while I contact Moira, I hate cutting her vacation short but she might be needed."

"McCoy can take him down there and 'Ro can babysit."

"Right now Ororo's nerves are at wits end, as well as the other children's, I need her calm and for her to remain with them." 

"Alright, Charles, but I ain't gonna mother the boy."

"Fair enough," Charles began making his way out toward the hallway, before stopping and turning slightly, "and Logan . . . if he were to wake, please try do not agitated him. I have a feeling that the child may know what happened to him."

Logan eyed the other man as he made his way to hallway, a thoughtful look on his face, then left toward the main entrance.

_Tum, tum, tum . . . To Be Continued!_


End file.
